


Soulmate AU

by stealyourshiny



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:53:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9618641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealyourshiny/pseuds/stealyourshiny
Summary: Collection of shorts from Tumblr for a Soulmate AU I was asked to write. Will update with more as they occur to me.





	1. Chapter 1

Danarius had tried to remove it many times. It ‘marred’ his appearance. It didn’t match the lyrium swirls but the magic in the mark had been so old, so strong, that the magister hadn’t even been able to cut lyrium lines through it in the pattern he wanted. So they went around the mark. Danarius had made sure that his armour covered the ‘disgusting thing’ so it couldn’t be seen by anyone else, and that had been the end of it.

It wasn’t until Kirkwall that Fenris learned that it was a general taboo throughout Thedas, and that the marks were kept covered. Not everyone had one, you see, and it was better kept to oneself if you did. He had never shown it to anyone else, though he had told Hawke that he had one, curious and wondering what the woman knew about them. The rogue had looked surprised for a moment, then disappointed as she explained.

“They’re supposed to be old magic. The story goes that the Maker gave them to people who would have great trials in their lives, trials that could only be overcome with the help of another person. No one really understands them. They don’t run in families like magic and seem to happen almost at random. I heard the Hero of Ferelden had one, and you hear stories about people, sometimes just regular people, who have them.”

She had shrugged then and changed the subject. Fenris had inferred that Hawke didn’t have one. Not that he thought she needed one. Hawke had many trials in her life, but she was fully capable of handling them all herself. She hadn’t needed a magical ‘soulmate’ to help her.

He had stared at it many a time in the bath, running his fingers over the spot near his hip, tracing the design. So he knew, intimately, what it looked like, though he doubted he’d ever see it’s match.

Which is why he was having trouble breathing now as he stared at it’s exact copy on someone else’s skin.

Not just anyone else’s skin, but the abomination’s skin.

“Fenris! I need help. Can you put some pressure on the wound while I get the bandages?” Hawke was giving orders, but it sounded like she was trying to talk to him from a mountain away. His limbs felt like jelly as he tried to move to obey her. 

They had been battling Tal Vashoth on the coast. The mage has been yelling something during the battle. He had learned to ignore most of the blathering and ridiculous lines that were yelled at their foes by the abomination, so had not really been listening. The world had suddenly turned sideways however as he was knocked on his back, and Fenris had looked up to see the mage had used his staff to sweep him off his feet just as a combination of Saarebas spell and Vashoth javelin knocked the mage backward. Fenris has been on his feet again in time to see Varric take out the Saarebas and Isabela the owner of the javelin.

The abomination had taken the blow for him, and had hit his head on a rock when he’d fallen back. He was unconscious and bleeding and could not heal himself, so Hawke had begun by pulling the javelin out and tearing the mage’s ridiculous coat and tattered undershirt off.

And there it had been, on his shoulder, just underneath his collar bone.

The _abomination_.

Fenris pulled his gauntlets off and pressed the tattered shirt against the mage’s wound as Hawke scrambled through the mage’s pack to find bandages and potions. He stared at the mark. Feeling perhaps he was mistaken. It could be a tattoo, after all. The mage had been a Warden and Wardens did silly things like that, didn’t they?

It was not a tattoo, he knew it wasn’t. He knew that mark better than his own brands. Every curve and twist and line, and it was on the mage- no… Anders.

Hawke gently pushed him to the side as she pulled the cork out of the potion she’d found and poured most of it over the wound and the rest she coaxed into the mage’s mouth. He moved gladly out of her way, watching her work and wondering what in the Void he was going to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Anders had a secret.

Actually, he had two secrets. 

Okay, maybe more than two, but two big ones that were currently on his mind. Mainly because he was sure at least one of them wasn’t a secret anymore.

That day on the Wounded Coast a few months ago, he had woken in the evening. Wrapped in two bedrolls and curled as close to the fire as anyone would let him get without setting himself on fire. He had woken with bandages wrapped around his torso. His tattered shirt had been loosely pulled back on to help keep him warm, though it was stiff with dried blood.

It was obvious they’d had to remove it to bandage the javelin wound.

Which means any number of the group could have seen the mark on his shoulder.

So his secret of having a soulmate was likely known by everyone at this point because two of the biggest gossips in Thedas had been present.

Normally this wouldn’t have bothered him. It wasn’t like having a soulmate mark was a bad thing, and he’d never really made a point of hiding it in the past. But…

But.

That brought him to his second secret.

The second secret was that he already knew who his soulmate was.

And now he was pretty sure his soulmate knew too if the fact that Fenris was avoiding him even more than usual meant anything, which it probably did.

It had been almost a year ago now - one of those times that Hawke had dragged the barely conscious warrior into the clinic to be healed. Due to Fenris’ aversion to most magic, Anders had shooed Hawke out and then proceeded to bandage the elf up the old fashioned way. There had been a wound on his upper thigh that required the healer to partially remove the elf’s breeches, and he’d seen it then. He’d very calmly bandaged the wound, put Fenris’ clothing back in order, and then gone into his corner room to have a mild panic attack.

Ever since then, he had felt a gentle magical pull whenever Fenris had been around. It annoyed Justice, but the spirit had known the Hero of Ferelden and had learned about the marks from her, so he didn’t complain much. It was simply something outside of either of their control. He hadn’t noticed any difference in the elf’s behaviour, and thought it was probably best to just let it be. Fenris would not like being bound to another mage, let alone an ‘abomination’. It would just be easier all around to ignore it. No matter how hard it was.

Which is why it took him a few moments to realise he was feeling the pull again, and it was stronger than it usually was.

Anders looked up from the mortar and pestle in his hand to see the elf waffling in the doorway. He looked back down again.

“Did you need something Fenris?”

He heard Fenris finally make a decision to come into the clinic, closing the door behind him. The elf came close enough that Anders could hear his armour creaking as he shifted his weight, obviously nervous.

“I… I need to speak with you.”

Anders continued what he was doing, measuring the crushed plants into small containers he would later mix into potions. “You don’t look like you need healing.”

“No. I…” He heard Fenris sigh and glanced up to see metal-covered hands running through white hair before looking back down again. “I… have a soulmate mark.”

Anders’ hands stilled. “Oh?”

“Yes. Here.” Fenris tapped the place on his left hip where Anders had seen the mark.

“And?”

The elf made a frustrated noise and began to pace. “You have a mark too. I saw it on your shoulder when you were wounded. When… you took the javelin for me. I feel a pull now, a compulsion almost, to… to be near you since I saw it.”

Anders’ stilled hands began to work again, the only way to keep himself steady and calm as the elf spoke, since he could not fidget or pace. “That’s an odd compulsion, don’t you think?”

“Yes! But… No. I mean…” Fenris sighed again. “It is because your mark. It… It matches mine.”

The mage looked up at Fenris then, seeing the somewhat miserable and confused look on his face. A month of waiting, and the elf had decided to come tell him. Despite all their disagreements, all their arguments and fighting, Fenris had the courage to tell him anyway. Whereas he had been hiding the truth for a year.

He licked his lips and stepped away from the potion ingredients. This was probably not going to go well and he’d rather not have to redo all of the work on the table if he could avoid it.

When the space between them was finally open, Anders waited until Fenris was looking at him directly before speaking.

“I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You… knew already?” Fenris frowned deeply. He could see the mage holding himself ramrod straight. His staff wasn’t in sight. He seemed to think that this confession would upset the elf. “How do you know?” 

He watched Anders take another deep breath, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. The eyes that had waited until they had been looking at each other darted to the floor.

“I saw your mark…. Last year. You had a thigh wound and Hawke brought you in unconscious and I know you don’t like magic so I wrapped it in bandages instead of healing you with magic and I saw the mark then, but I knew you hated me and I didn’t want you to be stuck with someone you didn’t even like, especially another mage, so I didn’t say anything.”

The words tumbled out quickly - almost too quickly for Fenris to keep up. A year. The mage had known for a year. He had never said anything. Never forced anything. Never pushed himself onto Fenris, though he could have. The mage’s eyes had closed and his hands had curled into fists. He looked as if he expected to be yelled at or hit or possibly have his heart ripped out.

Fenris hesitated a moment, contemplating what he wanted to do. He could leave and they could never speak of it again. He could yell. He could throw something. He could do anything he wanted.

Which was liberating to think about. Anders would not stop him, whatever his choice. He stepped forward and slowly raised a hand to the mage’s face. The stubble felt scratchy under his fingers, it was a little strange. He had never been allowed to touch Danarius like this.

“I do not like that you did not give me the chance to make my own decision at that time… but I understand why you chose what you did,” Fenris said, his voice gentle. He could feel Anders’ clenched jaw relax slightly under his touch and his eyes opened. Fenris met his gaze, noticing now that there were flecks of gold mixed in with the brown of the mage’s eyes. “I… appreciate that you thought of my comfort before your own. You could have pushed the issue any time you wished.”

“I would never-”

Fenris put his finger over the mage’s lips, silencing him. “I know. You are not like most mages I have known. You are… very odd sometimes. You… confuse me.” He frowned a little, looking at Ander’s lips. They argued often when together, but Fenris did not hate the mage as much as he used to. He gave his life to assisting those that were ignored by others. He helped in the alienages, in the sewer. He helped Hawke, and those in Lowtown, and asked for nothing in return.

The elf was still unsure about the mage’s ‘passenger’, but Anders did not look or act like any abomination he had ever seen or heard about.

“I am willing to… try this,” Fenris finally said, moving his eyes back to the mage’s. He saw Anders blink, the tension seeming to bleed out of the mage’s body. It was sudden, in fact, when the mage started to crumple into a heap on the dirt floor.

Fenris grunted in surprise and lowered himself down with the mage, who had begun to shake, his face buried in his hands. He was even more confused when a sob came from Anders. He felt a panicked flutter in his chest and put his hands on the mage’s shoulders. “Anders?”

It took a few moments for Anders to calm himself down to soft hiccuping. “I never… I had… I had resolved myself to being alone. I was sure that you… that you hated me. That my soulmate hated me. That it would be better to never say anything. It was so… It was so hard.”

Fenris’ eyes widened slightly and he brought his hands to the mage’s face, coaxing Anders to look up at him again. He wiped the tears from under Anders’ eyes gently.

“I do not know what will happen in the future, but right now I do not hate you, Anders,” he replied softly and leaned in. Their noses brushed together as Anders nodded his understanding. The elf smiled. He realised then what he wanted to do.

“May I kiss you?”

Anders seemed surprised at the request. Fenris knew that the mage was experienced. He had heard the way Anders and Isabela bantered, even how Hawke and Anders would flirt. He did not think that requesting a kiss would have been so unusual for the mage.

Finally, “Yes.”

He hesitated before brushing their lips together lightly. Anders exhaled, his breath tickling Fenris’ lips. Fenris had never really kissed anyone before, at least that he remembered. He was a little nervous, but the mage didn’t move, their noses still touching lightly, their lips hovering just above each other. He closed the distance.

Anders’ lips were dry, a little chapped, and his stubble tickled Fenris’ chin. He felt a little jolt of electricity through his body at the contact, perhaps it was the soul-mate magic, or perhaps it was just the touch, but it made Fenris pull away with a blush, perhaps a little faster than he meant to.

The mage was blushing too, which made his freckles stand out more. Fenris had never really noticed that the mage had freckles. On his nose, and cheeks, and chin; and even some on his ears.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Fenris finally said. The mage’s mouth quirked slightly upward and chuckled softly.

“No, not too bad at all.”


End file.
